


The Good Doctor: Working Title

by Vesta_Nyx



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Multi, Murder, Murder Mystery, Seduction, Stalking, Supernatural Elements, Vampire Turning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25274863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesta_Nyx/pseuds/Vesta_Nyx
Relationships: Alana Bloom & Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter/Original Female Character(s), Jack Crawford & Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue

She watched as the sunny light of the atmosphere gradient into the grey overcast of a Baltimore spring. Rain pattered against her window as she watched the buildings pass her by. It wasn’t long before she made it to her destination of a turn of the century brickhouse manor turn private practice. The rain didn’t bother her as she scanned the outside perimeter of the building sensing that nothing was overtly wrong. She saw no signs of a haunting. No ghost to warn her and no signs of esoteric disturbances. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. It pokes her in the middle of her spine, jabbing its fingers deeper as if to warn her not to take another step. But the nightmares wouldn’t stop, the overuse of skill was becoming too much, and she was no closer to finding the killer. But she had a role to play, it was her turn at center stage and all eyes were on her. She could not afford to break now. She had spent some time looking for the entrance to the waiting room, finding it as dreary and depressing as the weather outside; absent of a human presence. Her eyes were drawn to the overcoat and umbrella hanging by the door scanning the gaudy and tacky leopard print. 

Yet it was a welcomed distraction to the lack of personality around her as she took a seat in the chair, reclining back to a few months ago. She was porch side in her Louisiana home, relaxing in the mild March weather. The magnolia in the front yard was peeking to bloom as the chimes of the wishing tree serenaded the wind. She could feel the sun on her face as its rays soaked into her body with soft linen tickling her skin. Yet a sudden chill opened her eyes, the chimes in the tree rattled with the gale of a pending storm in the form of a **BRPD** **officer** and **FBI agent** walking the long path from the front gate to the porch. Her eyes peers at them as they approached her nervously with fake confidence. Pleading their situation as they handed her the case file that would relocate her to the cold, mid-Atlantic spring. What she thought would be an easy task greeted her with the complexity of an elaborate puzzle box fixed to a Schrodinger’s paradox. Nothing was making sense and her physicality suffered. Her mind was frying, her powers were becoming misaligned spending too much time in the underworld pulling souls from the afterlife for the sake of justice. She didn’t like doing that, it was bad karma to do so and sometimes the souls wouldn’t go back. Her body reacted like clockwork to the slightest sound, alerting her attention to the office door finally opening. The smell of cheap perfume matched the gaudiness of the animal print as a red headed woman walked out of the office, startled and a bit out of sorts until her blue eyes locked with hers. Freddie Lounds, a constant annoyance to the FBI a promising journalist turned morally compromised agent. She knew of the slander against Will Graham, having read some of the articles for herself having caught her sniffing around her crime scenes as well.

Why didn’t she recognize her scent sooner? For a moment their eyes lingered, her blue tinted irises staring at the cool grey of the latter’s eyes looking at her with a calm otherworldliness. Her lips pursed together, wanting to say something to the young woman

“good afternoon Ms. Lounds.”

She had never heard her speak before. Freddie often imagined what the young woman would sound like. Form her source in the FBI, Freddie knew she was from another agency and was sent in from Louisiana. she had no idea she would be so beautiful up close with the eloquence and grace of royalty. Nor did she expect her voice to be so refreshingly kind and sweet. For the first time she was speechless choosing to hold her words as she rushed past the young woman and out of the waiting room and back to the real world. Leaving the young woman in a confusion and unease.

_What’s up with her?_

“may I help you?” the words were polite and short coming from the visage of a tall well-dressed man wearing a three-piece suit. “do you have an appointment?”

Her mind went blank for a moment, taking longer than usual to register his neutral face, finding his calm composer offsetting and familiar.

“..I have an appointment to see Dr. Lecter.”


	2. Session One

The ticking of the clock matched her footsteps as she entered his office. her eyes scanning every detail she could find, frustrated that he was organized as he was well dressed and unable to shake the nostalgia flooding in her mind. Not a single thing was misplaced, with everything in exact order, with some disarray for show, rather than natural habit. Symmetrical Chaos as her uncle would call it, a perfect way to appear human enough for average people not to be suspicious. Out of habit she kept her back towards the window, keeping her eyes on the man as he closed the door behind him.

“may I take your coat?” his voice smoothly carried over firmly bringing her attention back to him. a friendly reminder to keep focus.

“no thank you.”

“understood, if you change your mind the coat rack is by the door.” He directed her to a pair of leather chairs facing each other, offering her one of the seats. she could feel his gaze on her watching her every move no doubt getting a read on her before looking at her paperwork or even gathering his things for a proper interview.

“you are a referral correct?”

“yes.”

“may I ask who referred you?”

“Dr. Kruspe”

“Dr. Kruspe, I never knew him to pass on patients.” His eyes never moved. Even as he went from the ledger book to the writing pad, his eyes remained focused on the young woman reading every inch of her body and face. “I haven’t received any of your paperwork yet.”

“I was never his patient.” she spoke as she continued to look upon him. “you would be my first therapist. He recommended you highly.”

To that Dr. Lecter’s lips slightly curled into a soft looking smile and eyes glancing upon the young woman sitting across from him. it wasn’t often that his colleagues would send new patients his way as Dr. Lecter was a _peculiar man_ with unorthodox ways. He was aware of the gossip his fellow doctors partook in and took care to choose his referrals from them. Her outer appearance gave the impression that she was a student, young and seemingly impressionable. Both shrewd and naive she was brimming with a bright and untouched quality he hadn’t seen in a long time. It was tempting as a ripe fruit to a starving man, the appeal of a shiny and new toy on Christmas day.

“what made you want to seek a therapist?”

“well… it seems that work is robbing me of sleep.” She began to speak honestly following along to give him exactly what he wanted to hear. “Forgive me if i come off as complaining. I’m rather new to this”

Her performance would’ve fooled anyone with an inflated ego, with a voice as sweet and calming as afternoon tea. He figured from her accent that she wasn’t a Marylander or even someone from the east coast. By the way her syllables danced in her voice he was certain that she was a southern girl perhaps from Mississippi or Georgia. However, there was a depth from the back of her throat, a familiar Slavic sound peeking from below.

“I would say your more nervous than complaining. If it makes it easier for you, let's start with a simple conversation.”

She didn’t say enough to give off her nervousness, watching him slip into his therapist role seamlessly, giving the young woman his undivided attention made the uneasiness return. “how are you feeling today?”

_How am I feeling?_

She wasn’t expecting the warmth from his question. and thought his show of concern was off-putting. “that is a good question doctor, I don’t think I put much thought into it.”

There was a subconscious show of naivete in her sweet voice. inaudible to anyone else, Dr. Lecter homed in on the softer notes of her words.

“my days seem to blend into each other lately. Doing the same tasks, hearing the same voices, seeing the same things hoping that something would happen. You could say that I’m disenchanted and exhausted.” her words trailed off as she began to feel herself becoming more honest with Lecter. Perhaps too honest as his stoic face, cracked with piqued interest. He could hear the strings of a German tongue peeking through the southern dialect. A soothing nostalgia coming over him.

“How did you manage these feelings before?”

“with music, sometimes with crafts. walking used to do me well” She smiled with a nervous laugh. “But i haven't been able to seperate from my work; So I'm trusting this will work.” He had heard that saying every now and again and every time he heard it, he couldn’t help but feel the slight twinge of disgust and boredom with American phrases. But this time there was no sinking feeling to mask his emotions, upon hearing those ill sounding words Dr.Lecter felt something new.

Pure Curiosity.

“ I have an opening for seven thirty every Wednesday and Friday. Since you will be my last appointment we can talk for as long as you need. Ms…?”

“Ms. Lamont Dr. Lecter.”

Her charming smile threw him off balance. From the way her lips curled at the corners of her mouth to the perfect shade pink blending with the brown hues. Her eyes and skin glowed as if she had a person sunshine about her, despite how tired she truly was happy to the there. The body language of a guarded young woman slightly relaxed at the end of the session

“Ms. Lamont.” he too gave her a kindly smile and with practiced courtesy led her back to his office door.

“Have a Good night Dr. Lecter.” She smiled again tugging the hood of her coat over her head. Her footsteps blending into the city sounds until they vanished into the night. The faint trace of vanilla and magnolia lingered in his office. blending so perfectly with the scent of rain that he remained standing by the door, meditating in her scent. He could see the moss-covered trees of the Louisiana bayou as the river lazily flowed into the Mississippi. The cool breeze brushed against his skin a welcoming relief from the humid spring weather. A rakish, devilish smile crept upon his face as his infamous curiosity was now focused on a new subject.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first session is always the quickest when the patient is not as forthcoming. then again, the Doctor like a challenge


	3. Session Two

It had been another two weeks and the rain refused to let up as she walked through the puddles of the quiet street. Winter was still lingering in the April air and the constant downpour didn’t make it any better. She could only imagine what the summers would be like trapped in a concert jungle with no way to sooth the sweltering heat. Rather than taking a cab or calling an Uber the young woman decided to walk to her appointment finding it convenient that his office was only a short walk away.

Even as she walked through the streets of u[town Baltimore she help seeing the charm the city had to offer. There was a simple pleasure in taking in the city just as the last rush hour of the day was winding down. In that sweet moment in time where the urban collective took a breather she reveled in the stillness. Far from the depressing sigh of being in the morgue and hopping between crime scenes. She was an UMBRA agent requested by the FBI specifically for her unique talents to hunt the monsters they couldn’t catch. Yet as Ms. Lamont sat outside Dr. Lecter's office she took in what she could of the night sky, wondering if she had made the right choice. The case was going nowhere. no matter how many gems she used or how often she raised the dead the answers and memories were getting more muddled. She warned Crawford that this was going nowhere without a new corpse to work with. She didn’t like saying it, but they had to wait for another victim for her to do her job right. she hated the way apathy took over like that, how her matter-of-fact tone could easily rub others the wrong way putting her at a greater distance from her joint colleges. She was fortunate enough that Crawford was the only person to see her work, and she dreaded the day that someone else would see it. Soft vibration pulsed through her coat pocket. With five minuets to spare before her appointment she took a seat in the waiting room. it was more creepy in the dark that it was the last time she was there and with no sign that anyone else was there she was doubly uneasy.

_Why didn’t I notice that this was a home office?_

She tentatively paced around the waiting room getting a psychic feel of the space while she could. She couldn’t pick up much from the small space apart from the faint traces of romance by the receptionist desk. With her fingers tracing the lining of the chair she could get a feel of the young woman. Seeing the world through her eyes, she picked upon trace admiration of the doctor. Seeing the pink halo about him Ms. Lamont caught glimpses of the young woman’s daily life almost always seeing the doctor in a favorable light. Now that her mind dwelled on it, Dr. Lecter didn’t look like anything she imagined. When Dr. Kruspe described him, she imagined Dr. Lecter to be a much older gentlemen humbled by age and years of academia. He would’ve been soft in appearance a harmless elder that young minds could look up too, no older than her grandmother. Not a well-traveled, sophisticated man. He was dapper from to toe, not a hair misplaced or color uncoordinated even in his office there were no clashing elements. Everything was in its proper place, balanced and perfect.

Perhaps too perfect.

He was standing by the window, waiting for something he wasn’t too sure of yet. In the two weeks since he had last seen Ms. Lamont she lingered in the back of his thoughts. Her unique scent stayed with him wrapped like soft cashmere paired with a voice that was inviting and warm. Even her eyes glowed as dazzling starlight within the darkness his voided ego. his finger tapped against the hem of his pocket in a nervous habit. A gentle metronome as he sifted through his inner thoughts. He scheduled their next appoint late on purpose during a time of day when people were normally more tired, more prone to honesty with their brain functions allocated to keeping awake. This would make the intake session one sided in his favor to play in her exhaustion and pick her brain.

“referral from Dr. Kruspe…”

he cycled through the turnabout of business cards, plucking the black paper form its resting place. The familiar scent of sandalwood and mountain air tickled his memories of Sous Vide de Ox Tongue. A surprisingly rustic taste from a metropolitan man who made the misfortune of being incredible crass at one of his dinner parties. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to commit to killing the man, as he was a brilliant Pianist with a knack for cosmetic surgery. It came as a surprise to him that Dr. Kruspe would send him anyone let alone someone like Ms. Lamont. Upon their first meeting he was in no mood for tedious paperwork and lengthy answers after dealing with the likes of Freddie Lounds encroaching on his patient’s privacy. The was so much diplomacy he could have for repeat offenders and Freddie was on her final warning. He was already plotting how he would go about harvesting the so-called reporter; what suit he would wear and how he would trap his wily prey. He was too focused on the future to pay attention to what was in front of him. Dr. Lecter searched his mind for the mental image of Ms. Lamont, relying on his photographic memory to prepare himself. He would describe her as a pretty faced woman with tawny skin, dark hair and haunting eyes. Eyes that he took special care not to linger on. A bit taller than average and from what he could guess a medium athletic build. From the way she looked around his office he could guess that she was an observant person, quietly taking her surroundings. Again, her scent flooded his mind with absolute clarity, warming his blood as a fine wine he could almost taste. He closed his mind to block those intrusive thoughts; daring not to bring to life his true emotions.

As the sky began to glow in the fading dusk and the rain dusting the air he could see that it was almost time for their appointment. With silent strides Dr. Lecter made his way to the waiting room surprised to see her standing in front of the empty receptionist desk. It was the briefest of moments to happen upon Ms. Lamont in a moment of deep and distant thought. In a blink of an eye she seemed to have broken herself of that trance gathering her barring’s; unaware that he was watching.

_A Daydreamer?_ He thought, carefully gazing at her. she had impeccable posture, a regality about her stature both relaxed and firm. He would have to guess that she was a dancer, given the grace and purpose of her gait once she realized he was waiting for her. with his signature smile Dr. Lecter ushered her inside his office with full attention. He watched her look about his office with the nervous tension of a first-time patient, carefully inspecting the space.

_A cautious Daydreamer._ He noted as she made her way around the first level of his extensive library, stopping upon his selection on theologies, the paranormal, supernatural and world mythologies. With the young woman engrossed he went straight to the black ledger upon his desk writing down the young woman’s name and the time of their meeting. Quietly she pulled one of the books from its place upon the shelf careful, and delicately held the weathered tome in her hands. Once he noticed the sound Dr. Lecter began to watch Ms. Lamont more closely as she happened to be holding one of his Father’s books. A part of him tensed from watching a stranger touch his things without permission, slightly gritting his teeth at the notion that someone else’s hands was violating his personal space. Upon glancing from his notes however, he could get a better look at the young woman. With her coat resting in her arm he was now privy to her womanly shape. She was far from the _pretty_ woman he recalled as he was taken back by her youthful appearance and natural beauty. Shapely, supple anatomy with the right amount of cushion in all the right places. Even her attire evoked seductive modesty reminiscent of a Gibson girl with a long black skirt paired with an open back cream-colored sweater. His pencil strokes paused as he watched her. For a long time, she looked at the cover her eyes darting about as if she was reading the unopened book. But with a solemn sigh, she carefully placed the book in its rightful place. Her almond shaped eye held opals of moonlight as they rested upon a dewy, youthful and blemish free skin. They were welcoming as she finally took a seat; crossing her legs at the ankles and gently resting her hands upon her lap appearing more relaxed than the last time.

“Good evening Ms. Lamont you look better from the last time we met.” Her smile was paired with a soft nod as she watched Dr. Lecter saunter towards his half of the paired seat. She watched him carefully, not once taking her soft eyes off him. For the first fifteen minutes they sat in complete silence of each other sans for the scratching of Dr. Lecter’s pen.

“I must apologize for the briefness of our last session. I was not in the right mind to properly conduct your intake session.” His voice conveyed his sincerity and was met with mutual understanding.

“you needn’t apologize Dr. Lecter we all have that one person that tries our patience.” Her smile was sweeter than what he could repay he with, as the slight turn of the corners of his lips couldn’t compare with her charm.

“Regardless I have a few files you can fill out and have for me by our next session. As therapy sessions go, we have two days where we meet and talk about whatever it is you want to talk about. I will do my best to help you in any way I can.”

“is there a time limit for the sessions?” she asked, partially filling out the paperwork in front of the Doctor much to his annoyance.

“normally yes. But since you are both the newest and last patient on those days’ time is of little consequence.”

“that’s very kind of you Dr. Lecter.” She placed the paperwork face down on the table next time her.

“it’s not kindness. I’m simply doing my job.” There was no sarcasm in his voce as she could see that Dr. Lecter was a serious man. “last session we touched on how you were feeling that day. We can start off each session this way if you wish.” She agreed without saying another word.

“how are you feeling today Ms. Lamont?”

“one in the same as before…mostly.”

“mostly?” She tensed with a nervous smile, feeling the slight anxiety of Dr. Lecter writing his notes about her. he looked up at the right moment seeing the worry in her eyes, and the tension built in her fingers.

“yes—I think the rain is getting to me.” The nervous laughter did little to hide the anxiety as he recognized the furrowed brow of unpleasant memories. glancing from his book he caught her searching her mind for the best way to expand upon her answer without giving too much away. Guessing that was something she couldn’t easily talk about.

“I have noticed that you are a guarded young woman. Is there a reason for that?” he figured it was best to move things along. Though he had assured her that time didn’t matter he still wasn’t keen on her sluggish pace.

“I didn’t have an easy childhood or upbringing.” She sighed deeply as if relinquishing part of a close kept secret. “it was difficult being raised in two households.”

“were your parents divorced?”

“no, my mother died. And I was raised between my father’s household, and my mother’s.”

Her fingers relaxed from the previous tension as they were placed on her lap, light and poised. She had the elongation of a violinist fingers but the slight callous and dullness of both hands supported that she worked with her hands in other mediums, yet was careful enough to leave her fingers unscathed.

“Doctor?” her voice shocked him with sudden vibrancy as her grey eyes glowed with the intensity of peeked curiosity. “is that a Flemish Harpsichord?” in her excitement the Germanic undertone returned tinting her southern accent with a heaviness as she leaned forward, eyes glancing at the pristine instrument.

“yes, I purchased this while I was in New York. It reminded me of my Gravicembalo from my time in Florence…” he rose from his chair with an idea in mind and went to brighten the lights in his office space. Uncovering the instrument, he offered the young woman a closer look. A stark contrast from when the session first started, she hurried to his side watching as he carefully on covered the trademark inverse keys.

“She is beautiful.” She remarked catching a glimpse of the woman who once owned the instrument, standing proudly beside it. “you must really cherish this instrument.”

He caught that distant look in her eyes, staring beyond what was present in front of her. unlink how she was with his father’s book the moment came and went as she gently caressed one on the black keys.

“if it’s alright with you Dr. Lecter, may I play her?”


	4. Movement One: Moonlight Sonata

the cold, florescent light did nothing for the corpse in front of her. Burnt and mutilated beyond recognition it would take time for forensics to identify the body; time that they didn’t have. She had to wait until Jimmy and Beverly were done collecting the evidence from what they could. From outside the morgue she watched with fascinated eyes as they worked, marveling at their delicate handywork. From time to she would catch Jimmy looking away from the corpse, no doubt giving his mind a break from the violence. While Beverly took every detail with stride, focused and determined. She patiently watched until they were done momentarily meeting Jimmy’s and Beverly’s gaze. They both shimmered with the slight uneasiness of her presence, for a quick moment catching the age-old fear of the unknown. it didn’t help that her silvery eyes were off putting seeing it on Jimmy’s face the most. she waited for them to finish finding it odd that they were taking longer to collect the evidence they needed. It wasn’t until Will entered the morgue that an uneasy feeling came over her. and when Crawford motioned for her to enter the room, she was certain things weren’t going to end well.

Their eyes followed her form the moment she entered the cold room. dressed in her UMBRA uniform and with her black bag in hand she looked more like a plague doctor than she did a FBI investigator.

“Good Morning.” She finally spoke in her soft voice after giving the victim a few moments of silence. “have you collected the evidence needed?”

“Yes, we have the sufficient evidence.” Jack Crawford began to speak in a way that always bothered her. it was in a smooth and in control tone that always came before he said or did something, she didn’t like but had no control over. “we have the corpse you wanted now if you don’t mind.” He nodded to the corpse as she glanced between the victim and the audience before her.

Director Jack Crawford stood by with the rest of the team watching as Ms. Lamont placed arcane tools upon the sterile table. “what exactly is she going to do with the body?” Jimmy asked loud enough for Ms. Lamont to notice, but was surprised when she didn’t react to him. they were surprised to see a different air about the normally stand-offish woman. Will noticed the change in her that the aloof almost dreamy like quality had morphed into a methodical seriousness. Form the way she tied up her hair, to how she placed on her strange black gloves he saw her change into an overwhelming dominate presence. Even as he glanced over to Crawford, he could see a single sliver of fear pulsing under his skin.

“once I start you cannot leave until I’m done. You are to remain where you are standing until it is safe to do so no matter what you see.” She **HATED** being used and felt that Crawford was putting on a show for her expense. But she had to keep her anger at bay as negative emotions run the risk of tainting the ritual. As she left her colleges by the wall, a deep and sudden chill came over them even making their breath visible to see. They did well to fight their flight or fight responses; suppressing their survival instincts as the young woman pulled off her black laced gloves and watched as her delicate fingers turned into blacked skeletal claws.

_“So, **this** is a **Death Walker”**_ Will intently stared at Ms. Lamont as her skeletal hand etched as sigil upon the corpses hand, a failsafe to keep the soul from leaving the body too soon. His stomach churned as he watched the young woman plunged her hand into the corpse’s chest. Wrist deep in decayed flesh she searched about within the empty chest cavity, the sound of shifting broken bones and charred flaking flesh unsettled her audience as he continued to watch on with macabre interest.

“shit…” she pulled her hand as a black, thick liquids dripped from the slender, skeletal tips. much to their surprise.

“what happened?”

“The Anima-mea has decayed, there was too much time away from the heart.”

“what does that mean for us?”

“it means I have to reanimate the corpse.” she walked to the adjacent table picking out a reddish black stone and rubbing the fluid over its surface before forcing the stone within the chest cavity. Almost immediately the body began to jerk and contort, writhing with new life. She sprang from the table towards the young woman with Crawford’s muscle memory kicking in.

“Iliya!” he called out. A protective instinct overwhelming him as he reached for his gun. But Iliya’s stopped him with a look, as a blood red energy surged from her hand and slammed the body back in place. Black, thorny vines wrapped around the reanimated corpse restraining it while it looked around the room, eyes still petrified with fear.

“it hurts… it hurts…it won’t stop hurting!” The victim’s voice croaked and screamed form the smoke and fire damage, as if she was still living through the moment.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, trust that I am here to help.” Iliya’s voice was as gentle as can be, talking to the victim as a mother would their child. watching as the victim eyes filled with tears realizing that she was no longer alive, holding back painful sobs. “can you tell me your name?”

She began to speak in the cryptic language of the dead. Though Iliya could hear and understand with clarity the rest of the team could not. All they could do was try to deduce what was being told by the look on the young woman’s face as the featureless, severely burnt face spouted gurgles and grunts. The abomination continued to writhe for a while before becoming dormant again, with the haunting glow within its chest, slowly fading away.

“is it safe to move?” Crawford asked after a while of silence. Iliya said nothing but nodded as relief came over Jimmy, Beverly and Will. With the sound of water running in the faucet it didn’t take long for the scientist to investigate the cadaver, trying to piece together the unholy miracle they had just witness all except Will partook. instead choosing to watch Iliya clean her hands and the stone used in the ritual. Her watched her delicately clean herself, while her slender fingers meticulously cared for the gem. He suspected something was off about her from the moment he saw her at the crime scene and how differently Crawford seemed to be treating her. For a while he wanted to ask about her and the agency she came from. if she really was qualified to work on the case. He was curious to know how she was gaining her information about each of the victims, chalking it up to the possibility of bribing outside people rather than old fashioned police work. He didn't think to suspect that she was close to anyone on the team, as they all shared in their awkwardness about her. an awkwardness that was doomed to grow as she gathered her tools and quietly left the morgue. To his surprise Crawford didn’t stop her, nor did he attempt to go after her seeing for himself the furrowed brow of a man that had made a mistake.

It didn’t seem fair to leave them like that. To let the team stew and process what they saw on their own was bad practice for any necromancer or medium. If this was any other time she would gladly stay behind and answer their questions. With a smile on her face she would brave their ignorance in hopes that it would make her job easier.

But she was tricked.

Forced into a corner, Crawford had an audience for her. she couldn’t dig as deeply as she wanted with three sets of eyes looking at her. it angered her deeply, as that victim was fresh enough to know what had happened. So close to ending the carnage and madness it hurt her even more. Iliya had no desire to stay any longer than she needed to.

.as she left the main lobby of the FBI headquarters she was greeted by bright sunshine and crystal blue skies. An easy spring wind slipped past her ears with what was left of a hard winter. It was her good fortune that she left early enough to go back to her apartment to gain some needed rest. Peeling off her uniform and unraveling her hair, Iliya plopped upon her bed staring blankly at the clock on her nightstand.

_Humans…I don’t understand them._ She buried her face within her pillows taking deep breaths of the lavender scent. _If he had just left me alone to my work Crawford would have his killer by now. I wasted a bloodstone for this. Now I must wait another moon-cycle for it to charge._

Iliya was glad there was no rush for her next errand as her sliver eyes lingered the calendar that had Audition written in bold red letters. If there was anything she enjoyed most in the world, it was music. Form the jazz and rhythm and blues that her grandmother used to play to the classical prestige of her father’s high society: her heart fluttered to music. It made her happy to fell the strings of the instrument beneath her fingers, plucking and strumming her worries away. It was one of the few things she was allowed to excel in, and it gave her the chance she needed to explore the outside world. She took her time showering and washing her hair carefully choosing her clothes and what violin she would use. With the leather case in hand, Iliya called her Uber and was on her way.

Nothing pleased him more than culture. Burned with heightened senses from a young age Dr. Lecter always made it his duty to grace his sense with the best of qualities. Form the food he ate to the clothes he wore, down the books he read and the music he enjoyed. The finer things in life suited his pallet the best and to night was no exception as his associates with the symphony orchestra asked him for a favor.

“I understand you are a busy man Dr. Lecter but we are short one judge for tonight’s auditions and I was hoping that you could lend us your impeccable ears.” Mrs. Wilkins was on the board of directors, a classy older woman with fading red hair and youthful brown eyes. Dr. Lecter enjoyed her blend of high-society and country charm and was always the first one to complement his use of aromatics and spices during his many dinner parties.

“it would be a sin to refuse you Mrs. Wilkins. I would be more than happy to help.” His smile masked his displeasure at his obligation to follow the rules of society. As much as he enjoyed classical music and the refinement of the opera, he had little patience for human mistakes. He fallowed Mrs. Wilkins into the gallery bellow the stage sitting next to tow other judges that he faintly recognized from his last integration. Nevertheless, he made his acquaintances and looked at the pamphlet that was given to him.

“ _First and Second Chair Violin… Blind Auditions.”_

He wasn’t surprised that is was a blind audition but at the multiple Bach solos for the violin that he had to sit through. For the first few hours he sat through 5 retentions of Beethoven and Brahms. Each one was the same as the last, expertly executed with impeccable technical skills. Every note was hit with robotic and practiced to near perfection. There was no doubt in his mind why Mrs. Wilkins wanted him there, as he looked to see the other judges finding it hard to make up their minds. Yet during the soloist playing, Dr. Lecter took another glance at the audition sheet. Amid the names of the classical master’s there was one that stood out.

**_The Devil’s Trill-Tartini: Movement One._ **

He had to look again to make sure his eyes weren’t failing him as his fellow judges openly shared their surprise and concern.

“Tartini? I haven’t seen this name in a very long time. It’s not an easy piece to audition.” He didn’t like to eavesdrop but this much was true. Where the other violin solos could be done with a piano or by themselves a Tartini composition was made with the orchestra in accompaniment. Already the violinist had something the others didn’t. they managed to stand out and make an interesting first impression.


	5. Movement Two: Tartini

The theater was silent to the sounds of the violinist entering the stage. The heavy curtains were drawn and weighted so not even a small breeze could give the player away. Even Dr. Lecter was stumped for a while as he couldn’t decipher who the violinist was. In this rare moment his sense of smell was rendered useless as the judge next to him replenished her fading perfume. For a while he couldn’t gauge what the performer smelt like or if they were male or female, all he could do was hear them play. It was an instantaneous, heartbreaking melody that resonated from the violin’s strings. Hauntingly beautiful the player strummed through the first movement with a slowed anticipation. Not one note was missed placed, gentle and purposefully with the expert execution of the languid double stops that sent chills down his spine. Dr. Lecter was enchanted, mesmerized and enthralled by the music that nothing else seemed to have mattered it was as off Tartini himself was performing right in front of him. his sank when the movement was over tempting him to outwardly beg for an encore. Yet despite his enthusiastic enjoyment, the other judges didn’t seem as thrilled.

“looks like we have another _musical Savant_.” The male judge hissed under his breath writhe with arrogance. Dr. Lecter knew him to be on the board of directors for the symphony as well as one of the Alma mater. Once known for his own musical prowess, an unfortunate accident had left his bowing hand crippled and his career as a First Chair violinist short.

“I wager the last performer is local no doubt form the downtown area on a charity run no less.” His misplaced elitism polluted Dr. Lecter ears as he excused himself from the Judging booth. He had heard enough from the bitter old man, with no desire to listen to anymore playing.

“Well Dr. Lecter?” Mrs. Wilkins asked catching him while another Beethoven sonata was being played. “did anyone catch your ear?”

He looked at the expectant old woman and her egger eyes hungry for talent to work with. “there were many great performances it was hard to choose at first… but I suppose Tartini had thoroughly swept me away.” He wasn’t surprised to see the surprised look on her face.

“Tartini?”

“yes. You missed the most outstanding performance of the first 3 movements of the Devil’s Trill… I was captivated.” Mrs. Wilkins was caught off guard but did well to save face allowing Dr. Lecter to work his dark charm. “By any chance do you know who the performer was?”

The Orchestra was different at night. Without the ushers standing by or the rows or wealthy people crowding out of the theater, it was a quiet and somber place. She knew it was going to be difficult. That her status would only get her so far state-side. Iliya was confident that the blind audition would work in her favor. She made sure that her music choice was within the requirements, she practiced when she could and made sure her instrument was in good shape. She even arrived early so the judges wouldn’t see her and wore shoes that would mask her gender. She wanted first chair. More than anything she wanted an escape from the carnage with the FBI and their dealings with this serial killer. But just like the warm sun from earlier that day, the night was a bitter reminder of the winter that refused to move on. she could feel that only one of the judges truly enjoyed her playing. She could feel the appreciation radiating from their being just from the first movements.

“ _At least someone enjoyed my playing.”_ She could feel her thoughts moving in nostalgia as she waited for her Uber to arrive. With her eyes closed, she held her violin case she could recall those long quiet nights with her father. Silently sitting by the fire as he listened to her play _Love’s Sorrow_ ; the notes a haunting lullaby to chase the day away.

“Ms. Lamont?” his voice called out to her, breaking Iliya away from her memory as Dr. Lecter stood beside her. she jumped upon seeing him, readying the violin case out of reflex, only to exhale her fighting breath.

“you scared me Dr. Lecter. You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

“I figured you heard me; I was calling you for some time.” He watched her square her gaze at him, tempted to call his bluff. But he could hear the exhaustion under her breath and counted on that to stir her instincts the other way. “I see you are a violinist; did you audition today?”

“yes, I did. Who knew there would be so many people playing Beethoven?”

“would you play Beethoven?”

“not for an audition… it’s too safe if you ask me.” She looked up to meet his gaze in a calmer state. She looked to see that Dr. Lecter was just as collected and cool outside the office as he was during their sessions. But there was something peculiar about him. as she looked on she caught the ghostly shimmer in his brown eyes, noting how cold the warm color felt. 

_Am I seeing things?_ she thought for a moment until the streetlight behind him flickered, taking the haunting glow with it. She cursed herself for being rude and could feel her cheeks turning red with embarrassment. ‘ _looks like I am seeing things, I should go home…’_ she checked her phone to see where her Uber was only to find that it was still a ways out.

“did you call a Taxi?”

“yes, but it looks like I might be here for a while..”He admired her attempt to hide her frustrations, and choice to be optimistic with a practiced societal smile, already forgiving the unfortunate driver. As he remained standing beside her, he was unable to leave the young woman on her own. he wasn’t sure what was bringing this chivalry about, or if this was his way of thanking her for the breathtaking performance. All he knew was that he didn’t want to leave her alone.

“do you frequent the orchestra House?” she asked with casual curiosity.

“I do, it a good way to cleanse my thoughts from a long week at work. And fulfils my obligations to interact with others.”

“that is true.” She spoke with a giggle. “it is more intimate than going to an Opera. Not many people will stay behind to ask your opinion on the movements. Or the emotional weight behind the delivery of notes and double plays.” She spoke with an exhausted sigh recalling many nights spent in the circles of high society and nobility. Her face soured at the memory of smoky rooms and pretentious people, all pretending that they understood the story while wearing the blush of a drunken mess. “it’s a very cut and dry affair when you think about it.”

“I suppose it is.” Dr. Lecter checked his watch noting how late the time was. “you have the makings of a saint Ms. Lamont to wait so patiently for your taxi.” He traded his practiced smile for a genuine expression as he turned to her and caught a glimpse of those brilliant silver eyes. “if you don’t mind, I would like to take you home.”

He could still smell her scent around him, further seeping into his senses staining his coat with its light and tantalizing aroma for a while he held onto the coat inspecting it carefully as the fresh memory of their interaction played over in his mind. How demure she became at his simple request, unable to refuse his considerate offer. Showing what he already suspected to be a well cultured upbringing she linked her arm within his own as they walked to his car, and he drove her home.

“Thank you, Dr. Lecter” She spoke so gently, so sweetly and sincerely that he couldn’t stand it. Her hands were firm yet soft as petals in his grasp as her finger softly crooked around his palm while he helped her out of his car. Yet her scent remained with him even as he drove home with the windows open, hoping that the frigid air would cleanse his space. It only got worse when he was in the safety of his own home with the ghost of her skin still tingling on his hand.

It was hard for him to focus, unable to write any new notes for his opus as could still recall her masterful playing. Even the mundanity of looking over his patient’s files did little to expel the afterimage Ms. Lamont left behind. Her sweet smile and exotic scent drew his gaze away from his work lingering over to his favorite recipe book, with a strange hunger pain lurking in his belly. He knew it wasn’t real hunger but recognized it as a craving he hadn’t had in a very long time. He hummed along to the memory of her audition while carefully flipping through the pages of the book. Barely taking notice to the many dishes he had already prepared, or book marked for later. Mindlessly turning the pages until he could smell the faintness of the untouched desert section. A small portion in his recipe collection, Dr. Lecter was never one for confection, preferring the sweets that were natural, or complimented his meals. Yet just as Ms. Lamont had begun to intrude his inner thoughts, he suddenly had a taste for something sweet.


End file.
